


Out of Step, Out of Reach

by clairelizabeth



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, F/M, Friendship, Heart-to-Heart Conversations, Heavy pining, Leta ships Newtina, Mention of abuse, Mutual Pining, mild spoilers from the Collider article
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:37:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairelizabeth/pseuds/clairelizabeth
Summary: “Out of step” (informal): not in agreement; out of harmonyTina’s hair was still in the same style she’d worn it those months ago at the engagement party: short and sleek, and dark and lovely like her eyes. Some pieces had strayed from where they ought to be from all her running about, but she quickly fixed it with a brush or two of her fingers.Newt gripped his case handle more tightly as the memory of touching her hair and the urge to do it again swept over him unforgivingly.Sequel toSlow Dance





	1. A Close Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Some of you asked for a continuation of Slow Dance, and while I totally didn’t expect it to come to fruition, it’s totally happening. This is going to be a compilation of 3 short (<2k words) vignettes from what I imagine Crimes of Grindelwald might be like after Slow Dance. That said, I do recommend you read it before these stories as the events in it provide the context for Newt and Tina’s complicated relationship in these vignettes. It will also often be referenced here as _that thing that happened a few months ago._
> 
> Since Eddie Redmayne said that CoG is set 6 to 8 months after the first film (although Yates said during press for the first film that CoG would be set 3 months after, during the spring), I’m going to set this at around June/July 1927. Slow Dance is set in March 1927.

“You’re too good, Newt. You never met a monster you couldn’t love.”

Leta’s chestnut colored hair had fallen down to disheveled waves after their long and arduous encounter with an escaped ZouWu that had caused a ruckus in the middle of a Parisian street earlier that evening. She had been eager to help tame the beast and had been doing very well alongside him until she’d overstepped a boundary of sorts in attempting to coax the irate creature, and it lashed out by whipping its long, feather-like, red tail (evidently much harder and heavier than it looked) at her, sending her flying back and tumbling to the ground.

Tina, who had been helping civilians that were hurt by the ZouWu’s disturbance and along with Jacob had been getting them to a safe distance away from it, heard Leta’s cry and immediately rushed to her side. Newt turned back briefly to meet eyes with the auror, who assured him with a hasty nod that she would take care of Leta while he the ZouWu. Leta had sustained no serious injuries from the fall, apart from a sore body and scrapes and bruises that Tina took care of with healing spells.

After he’d finally coaxed the beast into his case, Tina approached with Leta and insisted he bring her along to a safe place so she could recover, while Jacob and herself would stay behind. The baker was several meters away, crouched down to comfort a man who sustained a leg injury from the ZouWu’s outburst. Tina would stay and assist the French aurors in obliviating as many _non-magique_ witnesses as they could, and she and Jacob would meet up with the two of them later.

The tension that permeated the air between the three of them was _anything_ but imaginary, he knew, and he is unable to keep the memories of a night nearly four months ago from emerging from the back of his mind (where he’d been trying to keep it these past months, and where they had briefly gone to during his encounter with the ZouWu). Once realized, they landed with an agonizing thud in his chest and settled there; a cold, hard and heavy weight that now seemed even harder to ignore than the last time he’d felt it.

Tina’s hair was still in the same style she’d worn it those months ago at the engagement party: short and sleek, and dark and lovely like her eyes. Some pieces had strayed from where they ought to be from all her running about, but she quickly fixed it with a brush or two of her fingers.

Newt gripped his case handle more tightly as the memory of touching her hair and the urge to do it again swept over him unforgivingly. He started to look everywhere except towards her.

“Get well, Miss Lestrange,” he’d heard her say.

“Thank you, Miss Goldstein,” replied Leta, genuinely grateful to her for her help.

After clumsily giving Tina an address of where to meet, as well as a feeble goodbye, he took Leta by the arm and disapparated them to the flat he’d rented out in Paris. It was dimly lit and still looking very recently moved into as he hadn’t bothered much with unpacking; and though he’d managed to expand the interior of the flat just enough to make it feel less cramped, it remained a humble abode.

Once they landed, he let go of her arm and hastily set his suitcase down on the floor while telling her to make herself at home. Relieved by the opportunity to distract himself, he opened his case and excused himself before disappearing into it. It was later after he emerged with a cup of tea, a vial of Pepper-Up Potion, and a small tub of Murtlap essence that he found her still standing up, back turned to him.

Her words and the softness and vulnerability in her voice rooted him in place. They sent an all too familiar twinge coursing through his heart, which hadn’t quite recovered from what had happened a few months ago.

Setting the cup, vial and tub down on a nearby table, he decides to stop running away.

“You’re not a monster, Leta,” there’s a rasp in his own voice he hadn’t expected, and he swallows the lump that had formed in his throat. “You never were, and I never thought you were.”

She’s turned her head to look at him and manages a small smile, but the sadness still hasn’t left her dark, almond shaped eyes. “You’ve always had the most remarkable capacity to see the good in everything…in every _one_. It’s always been your best trait. But I think, at times, it’s also been your undoing.”

When he doesn’t say anything she continues, turning her body to face him and speaking firmly but softly, “You believe in them so much – sometimes maybe too much – that you put yourself at risk for them because you know that they are simply misunderstood.”

“But sometimes, even after you’ve saved them, they continue to let you down.” She pauses, and Newt sees the look in her eyes for what it really is – regret. Her next words are barely above a whisper but he hears them loud and clear: “I’m so sorry, Newt.”

She’d already apologized to him in January when she came into his office at the Ministry with a diamond ring on her finger, a few days after Theseus told him about his plans to propose. But compared to this moment, that apology now seemed strained in comparison. She had been in her usual impeccable state then – hair in sleek curls and attire neat and freshly pressed. Such a state was part and parcel of the mask that she had gotten so good at wearing that it only occurred to him now, as she stood before him baring her heart – disheveled state and all – that she’d still been wearing that mask (or at least a somewhat watered-down version of it) the first time she apologized.

Struck by her sincerity and vulnerability, Newt tries to find something to say, mouth opening and closing several times as he struggles to find the words.

But she finds her words sooner. “I knew how you felt about me when we were in school,” her bluntness shocks him more than the words that leave her lips. After having more than a decade to think it over, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered that she knew, but hearing the words straight from her mouth feels like watching a storm finally start to clear. “I knew, and I used it against you because I was a coward.”

“I meant what I said when I came to your office months ago. You don’t have to forgive me now, or even for a long time. For what happened at school…and for now,” she briefly glances downwards, and Newt doesn’t have to follow her gaze to know she looked at the diamond on her left ring finger. But then she lifts her gaze again to meet his. “In fact, I’ll understand if you never do. I know that’s probably what I deserve.”

“Miss Goldstein…she’s good for you,” she says it gently and almost tentatively, as though she knew it was a sensitive topic; but at the mention of Tina his heart still twists all the same — it twists so tightly in his chest it nearly knocks all the air from his lungs. “I know that she cares for you. And I know that you care for her.”

 _But I’ve already buggered things up with her_ , he thinks as he fixes his gaze back to the floor.

The pain must have been written all over his face because she seems to understand immediately. From the corner of his eye he sees her take a step closer to him, and surprisingly his heart gives no sign of protest – it’s hurting over someone else now.

He looks back up at her when she says his name, and sees her eyes are as pleading as the tone of her voice. “I only want you to be happy, Newt. What I don’t want is for the past to keep you from what you could have.”

For a moment he wonders whether she’s developed a talent for Legilimency she hasn’t told him about, before remembering that such abilities aren’t always necessary – _people are easiest to read when they’re hurting._

“You’ll make things right with her, Newt, I know you will,” Leta smiles, and though it’s small it meets her eyes.

He searches her eyes and wonders when people started to have so much faith in him – Dumbledore, Leta, even _Theseus_ of all people – and why. He’d tried his hardest to stay out of people’s way, traveling for months – _years_ – on end and spending his time exclusively with magical creatures if he wasn’t on his own. Was it the fame or just coincidence? He never wanted attention, but he was honored and humbled that it meant many people were reading his book.

And now here he was in Paris, thrown in the middle of a storm because his old teacher had an absurd amount of faith in him; and he still wasn’t completely sure what exactly he was doing and what to do next, but proceeded all the same. (Dumbledore, kind and generous as he is, has a uniquely maddening way of talking so much whilst saying hardly anything at all; and while he’s clear enough about one or two things, one always feels as though they have more questions than answers after conversing with him.)

There was only one thing Newt _really_ wanted to, and he felt like he was already failing at it.

His mind wanders towards the photograph in his case, taken from a copy of _The New York Ghost_ before he left in December. He had just finished the final draft of his manuscript, and to him the photograph was a treasure; it represented the promise he made (to her and to himself) to see her again.

In April, a few weeks after the engagement party, he’d given up on the many drafts of letters he’d attempted to write and decided it would be better to come see her; for there was no guarantee that she would even want to read a letter from him. But his travel permit to the United States was rejected, and even after asking Theseus if he could pull some strings (something he never imagined himself doing), he remained stuck in London.

It was then that he placed the photograph on the inside of his case cover, leaving himself no choice but to see it more than once each day. It was a reminder for how he’d broken her heart and how he vowed to himself to mend it somehow. It was a source of both happiness and self-inflicted pain, which he felt he deserved after so callously taking her smile away – the smile he’d come to draw much of his strength from. Now the mere memory of it would have to suffice because she could barely even look at him.

It’s even more difficult to tap into that memory now. Everytime he tries, it’s the memory of her tears – tears that _he_ had caused – that surface first, and after he’s ploughed through it, he finds that even the image of her smile is now tinged with some amount of melancholy.

“I hope you’re right,” he tells Leta, managing a feeble smile. Her own smile widens and turns warmer, and when he lets out a breath he feels a weight he’d forgotten he was carrying leave his shoulders. There’s still some weight there, and there’s still a pull in his chest he can’t shake, but it’s the most relieved he’s felt in a while, and he starts to think that perhaps there is hope after all.

His smile widens the slightest bit, and the air between him and Leta shifts to something more comfortable than it’s been in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! To my Twitter followers/mutuals who voted in my poll about the archives and the circus, thank you so much for your help but I got the idea of setting this vignette after the ZouWu scene instead of after the archives scene at the French Ministry (where Newt and Tina appear to be saving Leta from something). So for this fic, what I have in mind is that the ZouWu scene happens after the archives scene.
> 
> I’ve also read (I don’t remember where from though, but possibly SnitchSeeker) Zoë Kravitz say that Leta has a scene where she and Newt face a beast together, so this is what I decided to make of that.
> 
> Despite his boggart, I still imagine Newt has an office or at least a desk at the Ministry that’s very rarely used, and in Slow Dance I explained that he was there to submit the final draft of his manuscript.
> 
> The next vignette will focus on Tina and Jacob, a duo I hope we’ll be seeing more of (and I have a feeling we will) especially after that shot of Tina protecting him in the trailer. It will be set shortly after this scene, and will see Tina and Jacob having a heart-to-heart conversation of their own.
> 
> Also, this entire fic will be absolutely spoiler-free. I was one of the people who was able to watch the Heyman and Yates interviews, but I will not be adjusting this story to adhere to what they revealed about CoG knowing that there are those of you who were not able to see and also would not have wanted to see those interviews.
> 
> For those of you who are wondering, I will definitely still be posting the alternate happy ending of Slow Dance, but it will be delayed as I’ve been entirely distracted by this.
> 
> Once again, thank you and please let me know what you think! You can also find me on tumblr @ clairfoye and on Twitter @ mrsmaisels.


	2. Americans in Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everyone has something – or someone – that they’re willing to risk everything for. In Queenie’s case, it’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Before you proceed, please be warned that this fic is **no longer spoiler-free**. The “spoilers” I am referring to are the character descriptions released in a Collider article some weeks ago. Some of the descriptions in that article were revealed in the Heyman and Yates interview I was referring to in my notes at the end of the first chapter. At the time, I considered them big spoilers, but now that they’ve been officially released and more people are aware of them, I no longer count them as too spoilery and decided to include some of it, so here’s your warning in case you haven’t read the article. The spoilery details that will appear in this chapter are those concerning Jacob and Queenie (and in turn involve Newt and Tina in some way), but everything else remains my speculation and/or what I originally had planned for this story.

“How did you get your memories back?” Tina asked Jacob. Having helped take care of the aftermath of the ZouWu situation, the two were now walking away from the scene to the address Newt had given. Tina didn’t feel much like apparating, preferring to walk to help clear her thoughts. Jacob doesn’t seem to mind.

 She’d first asked Newt about Jacob’s memories earlier at the circus, where she saw Jacob for the first time since the events in New York, but the Magizoologist brushed her off by telling her he’d explain later. In his defense, there really hadn’t been time to explain much at all; between encountering Credence at the circus to him setting some of the circus creatures loose (one of them being the ZouWu), then transforming (voluntarily, it would seem) into Obscurus form before disappearing into the night, the escaped ZouWu effectively distracting them from finding him.

“You’re not gonna like it.”

_I didn’t think I would_ , she thinks as anxiety begins to bubble in her stomach, not for the first time that day. “Tell me anyway.”

There’s a pause before Jacob continues. “It started with dreams...of the creatures. Didn’t think much of it at the time, and there really wasn’t much to go on, but then…” He pauses, evidently unsure of how to proceed. “Look before I tell ya, I didn’t know––”

 “Queenie came to see you.” It wasn’t a question.

 Jacob sighs. “Yeah.”

 Tina sighs too, steeling herself for what he’s going to say next. “Then what happened?”

 There’s another pause that does nothing to soothe her anxiety, before he finally says, “Maybe we should sit down first.” 

* * *

 

Tina apparates them to an alleyway near the Pont des Arts – a pedestrian bridge over the Seine – where they find most benches unoccupied at this hour, save for one taken by a canoodling young couple. As they reach a bench three away from the couple, Tina feels her fatigue rushing over her all at once. Beside her, seated at a respectable – perhaps careful – distance, she knows Jacob feels the same tiredness; the two of them exhale in unison when they sit down.

An elegant street lamp that emits a yellow light stands a few feet ahead of them, flanked by long stretches of the bridge’s railing. Beyond it, the serene waters of the Seine stretch out towards the city, the edges reflecting the steady burn of the city lights like in an oil painting. Above, twinkling stars are scattered about the night sky, and there’s a tug in Tina’s chest when she’s reminded of someone’s freckles.

She looks over to Jacob, who’s still facing the river, and waits for him to continue. It’s only now that she’s had the chance to really look at him. The baker is dressed much smarter than when she’d first met him, wearing a slate gray suit and waistcoat, from one of its buttons is a fob watch chain that glimmers yellow under the streetlamp. His stocky form is wrapped in a chestnut colored greatcoat checkered with light grey pinstripes, and he himself seems to emanate a sense of self-confidence. Evidently, business is doing well. From where she’s seated she can also spot the scars left by the Murtlap from what felt like ages ago – four small, fang-shaped marks on the skin below his right ear, bulging a bit like swollen veins, but faded from red to the overall color of his complexion.

That was something special about Mr. Kowalski: he’d had every reason to want to expose Wizardkind. Having had that first unpleasant encounter with one of Newt’s creatures, any other no-maj would have threatened exposure or run straight for the hills, but Jacob, even as he fell deeper and deeper into their world, seeing firsthand both the good and the bad, did neither. He helped to find Newt’s creatures, helped Queenie as Newt and Tina were escaping the execution chamber, and willingly stepped out into the Obliviative rain even though he wanted nothing but to stay and to remember. Along with his humorous, magnetic yet also humble character, it wasn’t hard to see, really, why her sister fought so ardently to be with him. 

So ardently, in fact, that it had practically driven the two siblings apart. Following Tina’s reprimand of Queenie’s visiting Jacob and Queenie’s insistence upon going against her older sister’s wishes, the normally inseparable Goldstein sisters had begun to drift painfully away from each other. Though they continued to live in the same apartment, they had never felt farther apart.

Since Tina’s reinstatement, they hardly saw each other at MACUSA as their workplaces were far apart at the Woolworth Building. At home they also saw less of each other because of Tina’s longer (and odder) working hours, which caused her to frequently arrive home when Queenie was already in bed. There were also times when Tina was the one to arrive home first. Queenie wouldn’t come home until much later, in the wee hours of the morning, and Tina would be lying wide awake in bed, having waited for her to come home, then when her sister finally tiptoed into the dark of their shared bedroom, she’d feign sleep (and put up her Occlumency shields for good measure) until she fell asleep for real. In the mornings, the older sister would wake before the younger (aurors had earlier starts) but always made enough breakfast for both of them.

When Tina had to leave for Paris, she made it a point to tell Queenie in person. Her portkey was scheduled to leave early in the morning, so she made sure to come home earlier that night. She didn’t know how long she’d be gone, and she hadn’t wanted to leave things between them so cold, but she thought, given the rather half-hearted goodbye she received the night before her departure, that perhaps some time apart was exactly what they needed.

When she woke the next morning, the sun hadn’t come up yet, and neither had her sister. She prepared a nice breakfast for her to have when she woke: pancakes and a cup of hot cocoa with an extra bit of caffeine (a beverage they both loved with breakfast) and set them with a warming charm. Her cooking wasn’t the best, she knew – Queenie was always the more skilled at artistic endeavours like dancing, cooking, designing and making clothes – but she hoped her sister would read her gesture to be the tentative peace offering she couldn’t put to words. 

Normally, there was no need for her to put thoughts into words or gestures because of Queenie’s abilities, but considering how they’d fallen out over the past few weeks, she didn’t want to leave without at least letting her know, in some way or another, that she still cared very much for her. And so, after a last look at her little sister’s peacefully sleeping form, she disapparated to MACUSA, ready to take her portkey to Paris. 

In Paris, Jacob clears his throat beside Tina, pulling her out of her thoughts, and turns towards her on the bench. “The first time she came ‘round to the bakery was in March,” he explains. “I didn’t recognize her, but…somethin’ felt familiar, ya know? She must have...read that ‘cause over the next few weeks she came by more often.”

“At some point, I asked her to dinner and she said yes, and it just...went from there.” His voice shrinks almost shyly at the end of that sentence, and his eyes dart over to her face, gauging her reaction. Tina tries not to let too much show on her face, but it’s late and she’s exhausted. She manages a nod, wordlessly telling him to continue.

Jacob’s hands start to run up and down his thighs – a nervous habit. Tina’s own hands have been clutching each other on her lap, their grip on each other ever so slowly tightening as the man beside her continues his tale. “I didn’t know she was a witch yet. She didn’t say. But um…a few weeks ago...I–I gave her a ring.”

Tina’s heart drops to her stomach. She turns her head away from him and looks towards the river ahead, trying to process the information. In her panic she doesn’t see Jacob beside her, scrambling for something better to say, then realize there’s no other way to put this story that could make her feel better.

“Then...she took me to England.”

At this Tina’s head turns back to him immediately, her heart pounding and her face etched with worry. “What?”

“I didn’t know she was gonna do it. I didn't know what was happening,” he defends, “I was outta my head, she – she _did_ something to me...some sorta spell so I wouldn’t know what was happening...wouldn’t be able to resist.”

Tina’s now turned to face him on the bench once more, hanging on to every new detail. On her lap, her short fingernails start to dig into the skin of her hands, but she barely feels it.

“Next thing I knew, I was in England – _we_ were in England...at Newt’s place,” he breaks off briefly to study her, as though thinking the mention of Newt would somehow upset her. “She told Newt to undo the um...Obliviating...so he did.”

“And then, I got upset,” he proceeds, lightly flinging an arm in frustration. “Told her she shouldn’ta brought me all the way there without asking properly, ya know?” Guilt passes over his face. “Then _she_ got upset...and then she left. Newt and I just guessed she’d gone here...to look for you.”

Tina’s hands are fidgeting nervously in her lap when Jacob says nothing more, and when she realizes her eyes have started to well up with tears she turns to face the river again, feeling so numb and heavy with the weight of this revelation that she wants to collapse.

Queenie was here. In Paris. Looking for her. 

The silence between her and Jacob stretches on as she tries desperately to ground the thoughts that are running rapidly in her head – Queenie wearing Jacob’s ring...Queenie roaming the streets of Paris looking for her, overwhelmed by hearing thousands of thoughts in a language she doesn’t understand...Queenie in Paris, where attacks have been occurring left and right...Grindelwald on the loose...Credence...Newt...Newt and Leta––

“I’m sorry,” Jacob says softly, bringing her out of her reverie. From the corner of her eye, she can see he’s still facing her.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” she replies, turning her head to meet his rueful gaze. “If it’s anyone’s fault it’s mine.”

The look on his face is both questioning and disbelieving, so she speaks up. “When you were Obliviated, Queenie was devastated. Even when she wanted me to think she was doing fine – and for a while, she nearly had me fooled – I knew she wasn’t.”

“A few months ago, I got back from England...for work. I... wasn’t feeling too great, and she was there for me. A few weeks later, she told me she’d been seeing you, and I got mad at her,” she shakes her head, chuckling bitterly. 

“Well, you were just––”

“Trying to protect her, yeah,” she interjects, nodding guiltily. “But what if I had just _trusted_ her?”

When Jacob doesn’t say anything she goes on, “Everyone has something – or someone – that they’re willing to risk everything for. In Queenie’s case, it’s you.” _Take it from someone who knows what that’s like,_ she thinks. (While her younger sister is and always has been her top priority, she can’t help but think of Credence too; and the image of him crying and cowering on the floor crosses her mind, Miss Barebone towering over him with a belt half wrapped around her hand, the buckle end dangling wickedly before the young man’s face, preparing for its next strike. The memory, coupled with seeing Credence again earlier that day, angrier than he’s ever been, makes Tina’s eyes sting even more.)

Jacob remains quiet, but she thinks she can see a glimmer of something in his eyes – hope, relief. She gives him a small smile, but feels her mouth tremble slightly. “I should have accepted that sooner. And I should have trusted her.” _She’s raised me just as much as I’ve raised her. And it’s not as if I haven’t had my fair share of breaking the rules._

“And now, she’s in even _more_ danger because I made her feel like she couldn’t come to _me_ first – the _only family_ she has left.” Her voice shakes and shrinks increasingly as she reaches the end of her sentence, and she turns away from Jacob to hang her head over her lap and lets her tears fall, hoping her hair would be enough to hide her crying face. But when her shoulders begin to shake she realizes there’s no point in hiding, and allows her sobs to escape her, uninhibited, for just a few seconds before trying to rein it all in again, shaking her head furiously as though to shake off the emotion.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles, trying to subdue the tremor in her voice as she hastily wipes away her tears. “I don’t usually break down like this––”

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Jacob quickly reassures. He’s moved a bit closer to her on the bench, trying to figure out how best to console her. “It’s okay, just...here,” he takes a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and holds it out in front of her. 

“Thank you,” she says, gratefully accepting the handkerchief and using it to wipe her face. 

“My grandma always said when you gotta cry, you gotta let it out. It’s not good to keep everything in.”

She manages a watery smile. “My mama used to say that too.” Of course, it was all too easy to forget that when you were so preoccupied with raising your sister and trying to be strong for her.

“I think you’re wrong, you know. I don’t think it’s your fault. You didn’t know she was gonna react the way that she did…No one knew any of this was gonna happen. You were just tryna look out for her, like you always do. There’s nothing wrong with just wanting her safe.”

The sincerity she finds in his eyes is enough to bring more tears to her own, but she thinks she sees something else in them that hints at a story behind his words, and for a second she’s tempted to ask; but instead settles for a wobbly, grateful smile.

“Y’know if you wanna talk about it...I’m just here,” he offers tentatively, then when she doesn’t say anything immediately, he retracts, “or if you don’t want to, it’s fine––”

“I just did,” she replies, not unkindly, but plainly.

“Yeah, yeah, o’ course, ‘course,” he’s quick to reassure, but not long after she’s turned to face the river, he tries again. “It’s just...I kinda got the feeling that wasn’t _all_ of it.”

She looks down at the handkerchief she’s now fidgeting with on her lap, thumb swirling haphazard circles on the powder blue cotton fabric. “It’s…” she shakes her head, trying to find a way to explain without having to say much. “It’s complicated.”

For a few moments, neither of them says anything so she looks to Jacob and realizes he’s waiting for her to continue. Spurred by the need to talk to someone and touched by his patience and by his _being_ there – lending a handkerchief and offering to listen – she yields. “I just...didn’t think I’d see him again. Not here, anyway. We didn’t leave things in a good place. That was part of the reason I went to England – to see him, but...” she trails off and takes a few deep breaths when the memories fill her eyes with tears. 

“It’s been months now but it’s still _so hard_ ,” her short laugh is both bitter and incredulous. “And then I come here to _work_ and to forget, but then _he_ comes here too, and with _her_. And she’s engaged, but he still…” she sighs, “and it’s not even his fault. I know I can’t blame him for it but…” she shakes her head and stops to wipe away a fresh wave of tears.

There was no need to mention any names; whether or not Newt has told him anything, she knows Jacob is perceptive enough, given how he’d easily noticed that there were _other_ _things_ upsetting her – which he’d presumably surmised from simply being around her and Newt (and Leta) the last few hours.

For several moments, neither of them speak. As she’s drying her tears, she briefly wonders whether she’s said too much – perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything at all. But the silence isn’t uncomfortable, and she doesn’t sense even the slightest judgement from the man beside her, who she now realizes is her sister’s fiancé, her soon-to-be brother-in-law. Possibly.

Months ago she’d have been outraged at this engagement, and in some ways she still is, after all, the laws in America have not changed, and she doesn’t think they will for at least a very long time. But there’s a resoluteness in the way she rises from the bench and beckons Jacob to do the same with a cock of her head. It surprises her. Perhaps it’s her fatigue, her guilt, the emotional release she’d just unloaded on Jacob, and her longing to make things right with her sister all combined. There’s still a small part of her that wonders whether, come daylight, she’ll come to her senses and resolve to somehow end the engagement when she finds Queenie. But she’s determined not to let it come to that, as that line of thought is exactly what drove her sister away in the first place.

When Jacob stands he comes up to somewhere just above her chin, just a tad shorter than Queenie in heels. He looks up at her a bit expectantly, studying her to check if she’s alright. In reply, she pulls out her wand and wordlessly magicks his handkerchief clean. The fabric then unfolds in mid-air, each crease straightening out before it folds itself twice into a neat, freshly pressed square and lands softly on her palm. He watches the whole thing wide-eyed.

She holds it out to him. “Thank you.” It’s not just the handkerchief she’s thankful for.

He smiles kindly and knowingly, and takes it from her before stuffing it back into his breast pocket.

“We’ll find her,” she assures, though it’s directed to herself as much as it is to him, “I promise.”

He nods, the smile not leaving his face. “Yeah.”

She returns the smile and leads them back to the alleyway from which they arrived, where she takes him by the arm and, recalling the address Newt gave, disapparates them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I apologize profusely for how long it took me to update this. I had to pause writing this chapter for about a week to attend to other things, then had a difficult time getting my momentum back when I resumed. But at 3k words, this ended up being longer than I promised any of these chapters would be, so I hope that makes up for the delay somehow.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing Tina and Jacob’s dialogue, but it was also a challenge as this was my first time writing Jacob. I originally planned on making this chapter Jacob-centric, and in those earlier drafts I wrote a bit about him losing his brother in the war (which was revealed in a deleted scene from the first film). I still wanted to include that when I made this Tina-centric but I couldn’t really see it working out, so I instead settled for a very, very, very subtle allusion to it.
> 
> Thank you again and please let me know what you think! Questions or violent reactions are welcome in the comments below or on my tumblr @clairfoye or on my twitter @mrsmaisels.


	3. One Step Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Pére Lachaise finds Newt and company at a Parisian wizarding hospital. There's sleepless nights, hot cocoa, and some long-awaited confrontations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! It took me a while, but here’s the final chapter! If you’re new to this story, I strongly recommend reading [Slow Dance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174830/chapters/35190308) first if you haven’t yet. Enjoy!

The sweet, comforting smell of cocoa is most welcome as it fills the small kitchen in the small but sufficient patient room of the Parisian wizarding hospital. Tina doesn’t remember the hospital's name (much less how to pronounce it) as she enchants the ladle in the small cauldron to move in gentle, circular motions, slowly mixing the dark, hot beverage she had whipped up.

In the next room, her sister, Queenie, is laid down on the bed, weak but safe and steadily recovering from the events of the previous day. Next to her, Jacob sleeps uncomfortably on one of the chairs, his soft snores occasionally interrupted by his own incoherent murmurs.

Outside, the sky is still dark, but Tina hopes it won’t be for much longer, considering this is the third time she’s woken up that night.

The cocoa had been Jacob’s idea. Even with Queenie safe now and with the two of them so terribly exhausted, sleep still could not come so easily to Tina and Jacob (they found they could only sleep for no longer than two hours at a time), and it had little to do with having to doze off on uncomfortable chairs. The events at Père Lachaise – now about twenty-four hours ago – would haunt their dreams for some time.

Queenie’s brush with death had been a very close one. She was rather delirious when Tina and Jacob found her at the tomb, and when Grindelwald finally decided that she would not, after all, be of any use to him, he’d sent a burst of blue fire hurtling towards her, prompting Tina to apparate in front of her, just barely managing to extinguish them on her own. Leta had nearly perished herself, seemingly ready to sacrifice herself, before Theseus had stepped in to save her as Tina did Queenie. On top of that, they had lost Credence to Grindelwald, and the two, along with the rest of the dark wizard’s followers, slipped through their fingers, leaving the best of the remaining group to extinguish the violent flames that had been left behind.

The young Legilimens had been left so physically and mentally drained by whatever dark magic Grindelwald had placed upon her, that her healer insisted she stay at the hospital for a few days.

In these frustratingly long waking hours, it helped to keep themselves busy. Yesterday afternoon, Jacob had gone out with Newt for some time and came back hours later with ingredients for hot cocoa and for several other dishes that they’d smuggled into the hospital by way of Newt’s suitcase. Newt provided Jacob magical assistance in making dinner, happy to have even a small distraction.

At sunset, the three ate slices of Jacob’s delicious chicken pie in silence in the kitchen, and saved a portion for Queenie, who slept through the latter part of the afternoon and hadn’t woken since.

Newt and Tina remained, as per usual, quiet and mostly evasive of each other’s gazes, only stealing a glance every now and again when they thought the other wasn’t looking. When they did, they would sadly note the other’s exhaustion and unhappiness, though neither had the energy nor the words to try to cheer the other (and Jacob) up.

Tina felt guilty for not having anything to say, especially knowing that Newt and his brother were going through the same ordeal as she and Jacob with Leta, who, like Queenie, was recovering from the injuries she had sustained in her own patient suite several floors up.

Jacob’s silence was perhaps the oddest thing about it all. Tina had found herself staring at him more than a few times, each time feeling a twinge of regret in her heart whenever she caught his uncharacteristically dejected eyes staring distantly at his plate or at the wall. She swears she’ll never take his chatty, cheerful energy for granted again.

Queenie had already woken up about a few times since arriving at the hospital, allowing the two sisters and the couple some time to talk (separately) about what had happened between them, which involved tearful apologies in both conversations. There was still a lot to discuss (between both the sisters and the couple), and they had promised to do so later on once Queenie had made more progress in her recovery.

Tina wordlessly summons a plain white mug from the shelf, then magicks the cauldron to pour part of its contents into the mug. Another flourish of her wand and the cauldron lands gently back on the counter, its pewter lid sealing away the remainder of the cocoa for later. She lifts the mug to her nose, breathing in to allow its sweet aroma to fill her senses. Her lips are touching the rim of the mug, ready to drink the hot beverage, when she hears a soft rapping on the door. She sighs, in slight annoyance this time, and puts the mug down on the counter and goes to answer the door. 

It’s a healer she expects to see, making rounds even at ungodly hours to check Queenie’s vitals, but instead she sees _him_.

“Newt,” she greets, unable to keep the slight surprise out of her tone.

“Hello,” he says in return. His normally bright eyes are dull and bloodshot, surrounded by dark circles, and his already hunched posture seems even more hunched. There’s a vulnerability to him that, she suspects, has little to do with exhaustion or lack of sleep, and despite every reason she has to keep him at an arm’s length, she can’t help the sympathy that floods her.

He’s shifting slightly on his feet and his hands are fidgeting with his suitcase handle. “So sorry...I know it’s late, but...may I come in?”

 

* * *

 

 

They sit quietly sipping cocoa in the small dining area in the kitchen. There, they were joined by Pickett, whom Newt had woken up and scooped out of his coat pocket before leaving it to hang on the rack next to the door. This left the bowtruckle initially cranky, whining in sleepy annoyance; but when his dark, beady eyes came to rest on Tina’s face, his demeanor almost instantly changed to delighted. Tina greeted him with a smile and a few light strokes to his little cheek with her forefinger when he scrambled excitedly towards her across the small dining table, climbing up onto the back of her hand.

She’d set him back down to fill a saucer with some water for him to drink from, but at some point his curiosity had propelled him to abandon the saucer and stick his head into Newt’s mug to sample some of the cocoa, ignoring Newt’s warning about obtaining a bad reaction to the sugar.

Despite these few small, fleeting moments of happy distraction thanks to the blissfully oblivious bowtruckle, the air between Newt and Tina remains strained as the silence rolls on.

After taking his own sips of the hot drink, Newt’s eyes stay fixed on his mug, his gaze distant and despondent. Tina thinks she hasn’t seen him this way since after the subway incident in New York.

She decides to be the first to break the silence. “How’s Leta? Has she woken up?”                                                                                                                                               

“She finally has, thank Paracelsus. She fell asleep again just before I came here. Our parents will be by to see her in the morning.”

“That’s great,” she assures weakly, internally kicking herself for how she can’t think of better words at the moment.

“How is Queenie?” he asks in turn. 

“She’s been getting better. She wakes up every now and then, but doesn’t stay awake for very long, which is expected. The healer said she can be released in a few days.”

Pickett gives a squeaky little whine on the table between them, apparently not responding very well to the cocoa as Newt had warned. His tiny face is twisted up in discomfort, and on slightly wobbly feet, he saunters over to Newt’s hand resting on the table, sits down next to it, and folds twig-like arms on the wizard’s forefinger to rest his head on.

Newt’s thumb comes up to stroke Pickett’s head and Pickett hums appreciatively, further curling up into his caretaker’s hand. The exchange warms Tina’s heart – unsurprisingly, she has to admit – as Newt’s interactions with creatures always do. She can’t help the smallest of smiles that tugs at her lips as she watches the endearing scene before her, even daring a glance at Newt.

But then he glances up at her, and she immediately averts her gaze.

Another silence passes that feels longer than it is. Tina has put her own mug on the table and stares at it as though it might tell her what to say, what to do. She dares a glance at him and sees he’s looking down at his lap, his lips pursed in deep thought.

The dim lighting of the kitchen underlines his two-day stubble. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, as well as his bowtie, and Tina finds her gaze lingering on the exposed skin of his neck and collar. Her eyes inevitably drift to his lips, bringing her back to the moment they shared yesterday at Père Lachaise. 

The kiss was the last thing she had expected.

Upon entering the graveyard, which was already alight with blue fire, they had all split up into groups with different tasks: Theseus and Newt would go into the Lestrange tomb to find Credence and Leta with the help of some of Theseus’ aurors, the remaining aurors would stay outside and help Flamel and Kama extinguish as much fire as possible, while Tina and Jacob’s main task was to look for Queenie.

Flamel and Kama were the first to separate from the group to take on their job, and Theseus himself had gone off a few meters, looking towards the entrance of the Lestrange tomb – evidently formulating a plan – as Newt lingered by Tina and Jacob.

“Be careful, pal,” Jacob told Newt.

“And you,” Newt replied, looking to Jacob then to Tina. “Both of you.”

For what felt like several moments, Newt held Tina’s gaze, bright green eyes awash with unspoken emotion. Heart pounding from both Newt’s gaze and the need to find her sister, Tina tore her eyes from the tawny-haired wizard to look to Jacob, nodding once to let him know they should get going.

But not long after she’s turned away, she feels a hand firmly grasp her wrist, effectively pulling her back. She turns and with a gasp, hits Newt’s torso with her own. Her hands land on his chest, while his catch her firmly by her waist. She glimpses the blazing look in his eyes – determinedly eyeing her lips, then her eyes – before he cups her face and presses his mouth to hers.

Warm hands softly cupping her cheeks and the firm, desperate brush of his lips on her own knock the breath out of her. She easily melts into the kiss and is only half aware that her hands are grasping the lapels of his coat, tugging him closer. When the two part, eyes dazed and breath slightly ragged, Newt looks as though he is about to say something when a voice startles the pair.

“ _Newt_!” It’s Theseus.

Still, he keeps his eyes fixed on hers, even as they reluctantly let go of each other; all the while an elated but confused Tina searches his eyes until he turns away from her and runs off to follow his brother.

As she turns away too, she spots Jacob standing off to the side from her peripherals, waiting for her, and she doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking. Face burning, she grabs him by the elbow so they can look for Queenie.

Tina’s feels her face flame as her mind replays the memory. Regaining awareness of Newt sitting across from her, she stands up from her chair, picks up their empty mugs (but leaves Pickett’s saucer on the table), and brings them to the counter to clean, happy to have an excuse to hide her flushing face.

It’s after she’s cast the cleaning charm that she hears him softly speak her name.

She lets her eyes close for a moment when the sound of her name on his lips pulls at her heartstrings. She slowly turns to face him, and sees he’s come to stand now too, his tired eyes directed to the floor. 

“I...I know that I don’t deserve your forgiveness after everything that I’ve done, nor do I expect you to forgive me–”

The resignation in his voice breaks her heart. “Newt…”

“No, please,” his voice remains soft but his plea is fervent. She closes her mouth, allowing him to continue. “Tina, these last few months, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you, and what I did to you. I know I probably don’t deserve your forgiveness, let alone a second chance, and I’m not expecting either of those from you; I just want to apologize to you...properly. So hopefully you might resent me a bit less.”

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve spent too much time running away from how I feel – about Leta and her engagement to Theseus...about you – that it’s kept me from truly moving forward. Not only that, but I’ve also managed to hurt all three of you in the process. Most of all you.

“I’m so sorry, Tina. Despite what you told me before, I never should have let you get that close only to break your heart. You didn’t deserve that. So please don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault when I know that you’ve been hurting because of it...because of me.”

He steps closer to her slowly. “And about what I did…at the tomb…I–I know it must have confused you a great deal, and for that I apologize profusely…” he looks up from where he was looking at her shoulder to her eyes before continuing, “but I can’t apologize for doing it – for kissing you – and mean it when I do. Because I wanted to. Kiss you, I mean, n-not confuse you.”

He grimaces at his own words, but continues. “I just wanted you to be certain about my feelings for you. I told you before that I wasn’t certain about them, but I am now. Tina, my feelings for you haven’t gone away, they’ve only grown stronger. And I know that you must resent me so much at the moment that you wouldn’t even consider it…but if I hadn’t so horribly buggered things up between us, and you didn’t resent me, and I still stood a chance…I would ask for your permission to court you.”

Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t say anything.

Though he doesn’t seem too surprised by her reaction, he is quick to explain. “But I don’t want you to think that this has to change anything between us. In fact…if you should decide that you no longer wish to see or hear from me again, then…then I’ll respect that, and do as you wish. Whatever you want, Tina.”

He hangs his head, his shoulders tense as if he were bracing himself for a blow.

There’s a long pause as Tina racks her brain for the right words – where does she even begin?

“Newt,” she finally says in a soft voice, clearing her throat when her voice breaks. “I don’t resent you. I could never resent you.”

Her confession has him looking back at her immediately, several emotions playing up on his face in a mere few seconds – relief, disbelief, elation.

“I’ve been running away too. Queenie and I haven’t spoken to each other in months, and when MACUSA asked me to come to Paris to work for a while, I accepted…instead of staying and trying to make things right with her, like I should have, I ran away.”

_And now, look what’s happened to her,_ Tina thinks as her eyes flicker over to the door that lead to the room where Queenie laid in bed in the weakest state she had ever been in her life. Tears threaten to spill over as the memory of nearly losing her sister – still too fresh – briefly overtakes the present reality that Queenie is in the next room, sleeping. _Alive_ and recovering.

_Queenie's okay. She’ll be okay. We'll be okay._

She takes a deep breath. “Newt, I told you before that my feelings for you wouldn’t change,” her eyes flicker over to his face. “And they haven’t,” she finished on a whisper.

His answering sigh is soft, but heavy with the weight of his relief, and his own watery eyes blink at her in disbelief and wonder.

“Newt, I want…” _You!_ her mind yells. She swallows. “I want the same thing as you. I want us to try again.”

But just as a bright, beautiful smile begins to grace his features, she continues: “But I don’t think we should, just yet. Not right away.” She offers an apologetic smile and takes his hands to squeeze them, willing him to understand. “I have to make things right with Queenie first. She needs me. And I’ll have to go back to New York and report to MACUSA.”

“Of course,” he replies, smiling back and nodding understandingly as his hands squeeze back and his thumbs resume feather-light strokes over her knuckles. “I stand by what I said, Tina – whatever you want, I’ve got you.” 

The flutter in heart at the sincerity in his voice and his words is so ardent, she thinks the sheer intensity of it would be enough to lift them both off the ground. His calloused hands are warm and steady as they hold hers. Safe, strong, familiar.

“Promise me you’ll talk to your brother and Leta. We both nearly lost people we care about, people we’ve avoided facing, and I don’t want us to keep running away until something even worse happens.”

“I will,” he vows firmly. “I-I tried…to come see you…in New York, I really did, but they’ve…the Ministry’s banned me from international travel…I only came here – illegally – with Jacob when we found out that Queenie had followed you here,” when he locks eyes with her, he looks apologetic and worried. “I don’t think the Ministry will take so kindly to that…might even lock me up in Azkaban.”

“They won’t do that,” she assures, the certainty in her tone making his brows lift slightly. “Because if they do, they’ll have your brother and myself to answer to.”

His expression morphs into an amused one, the corners of his lips quirking upwards and green eyes twinkling with mirth as he remembers Tina and Theseus’ formidable display of magical prowess at Pére Lachaise. “Now _that_ I’d like to see.”

She chuckles softly. “We’ll write to each other. We’ll find a way.”

“Yes. Yes, we will,” he breathes, taking her hands up to his lips so he could press a soft kiss to her knuckles, looking her in the eyes as he did so. She’s glad to see him looking much happier than he did earlier. “You know, your eyes really are…”

“Are what?” she tilts her head in question, brows furrowing slightly.

But he averts his gaze back to the floor and suddenly looks ashamed, lowering their entwined hands and loosening his grip slightly, though not letting go. “I’m not supposed to say.”

“Newt?” she says softly, trying to catch his eye.

He returns his gaze back to her face, and, gathering courage from her smile, releases her hands to dig into his pocket and show her the picture once more. “It’s interesting because your eyes in newsprint...see, in reality they have this effect in them, Tina...It’s like fire in water, in dark water. And I’ve only ever seen that...I’ve only ever seen that in….s...s…”

The answer comes to her instantly, and warmth spreads giddily throughout her body from her chest out to the top of her head and the tips of her fingers and toes. “Salamanders.”

Back in New York, in the apartment she shares with her sister, Tina’s copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ sits in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. Knowing that Newt had poured out his heart and soul into it, and that he had taken her advice on the title made it impossible for her to throw it away, even after the engagement party had left her so heartbroken. So, much like her feelings for the author, she locked the book away and hoped to forget about it.

But now, it seems she doesn’t have to keep her feelings buried anymore.

The look that lights Newt’s face is one that Tina never thought she would see anyone hold for her. The initial disbelief washes away to reveal a look of pure wonder and relief. It’s so bright and striking that Tina finds herself breathless as her face breaks into a wide smile. She suddenly feels so happy and light that even when her tears finally pour down her face, she doesn’t mind at all, knowing they are now for joy. Newt’s resulting expression mirrors hers, from the smile down to the tears. A small laugh bubbles up within her and seems to banish much of the heaviness she had been carrying for the last few months.

She knows from his letters, from his reluctance to interact with other people, his comfort with creatures, and from his awkwardness and carefulness with her. For so long, he had avoided the company of other humans, having become so accustomed to their rejection that he had learned to expect it and retreated into his world of magical creatures.

So few had ever understood him. 

But she does.

They barely realize how close they are to each other until a loud yawn is heard from the next room, startling the both of them and making them turn towards the source.

Footsteps are heard before Jacob appears in the doorway, looking tired and slightly disgruntled. He sees them and his expression lightens up to form a small smile. “Hey guys,” he greets, smile widening as he looks between the two of them, registering their closeness. “Is uh...is everything okay?”

Tina feels her face flame, but she can’t help a small smile, either, and she notes the same of Newt when she looks over to him. “Everything’s okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take much longer for the sun to rise, so Jacob, thrilled (despite his own tiredness) to have his friends all together, sets about to make breakfast after Queenie blinks awake.

Tina is automatically at her side, helping her to sit up in bed. Newt follows, setting his case down at the foot of Queenie’s bed. He carefully eyes the blonde witch in her still frail state, ready to help Tina if need be, but she seems to have everything under control. He offers Queenie a quick, sheepish smile when her eyes land on him, then shyly averts his gaze, suddenly remembering her mind-reading abilities. 

Tina summons a mug of hot cocoa from the kitchen and offers it to her sister, who takes it with a grateful smile, before pointedly eyeing Newt and Tina as she takes her first sip, clearly reading both of their minds as she drank.

When she parts from her mug with a contented sigh, she smiles at both of them and reaches for her sister’s hand. “I’m happy for you – both of you.”

The two return her smile, both blushing brightly. Newt leaves the sisters to talk and slips into the kitchen to join Jacob, who flashes him a knowing smirk while folding scrambled eggs on a frying pan. Newt’s face, barely having lost their pink tinge from Queenie’s words, flames up to a full flush once more at his friend’s knowing look.

Delicious aromas fill the small kitchen within minutes as Newt stands by and watches his friend work his own kind of magic. Jacob works with a practiced ease, formidable and comfortable in his element. Newt wonders how much more superb his friend must look in his bakery, remembering that Jacob once told him he loved to make people happy with baked goods.

Just before they leave to bring the plates over to the other room, the portly baker turns to him, a serious look on his face. “Hey Newt, I never got to thank you...y’know, for the collateral.” 

“Oh…erm–” Newt begins, already shaking his head self-effacingly.

“No, no, I mean it, pal,” Jacob presses. “You have no idea how much it means to me, to get to do this for a living. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think I’d make it anywhere outside that canning factory, ‘specially after the war...” 

“It would be a great disservice _not_ to let you do this,” Newt easily replies. “You may be a muggle, Jacob, but that doesn’t mean you hold no magic inside you. This is the power you hold, and it makes you and many others so happy.”

Jacob is so deeply moved by his friend’s words that for a moment he is at a loss for words. “Oh,” he finally croaks out, reminding Newt of his reaction a year ago, when Newt had told him that he’d never forget how he had helped him. Jacob would never forget how Newt had helped him either.

Newt sees the hug coming and receives Jacob warmly in his arms when the latter envelops him in a bone-crushing embrace. He doesn’t care, though, and happily lets his arms wrap around his friend – his _best_ friend, there was no denying it now.

When Jacob releases him, he sniffs and wipes some tears away, then nods. Newt pulls his wand from his pocket and with a flourish, the plates and glasses lift off the kitchen counter and begin to float out the door and into the adjacent room. Even after everything he’s seen and been part of, Jacob watches the simple demonstration with wonder in his eyes. Smiling, he turns to walk into the adjacent room, ready to surprise the Goldstein sisters.

 

* * *

 

 

Tina summons a chair and sits beside her sister, keeping their fingers laced together. Despite her outward silence, Tina’s thoughts are a deafening swirl of guilt and remorse as she stares sadly at their entwined hands. Queenie, feeling equally guilty, speaks up. “Don’t apologize, Teenie. I already told you, I’m the one who should be sorry.” 

The brunette witch suddenly feels an almost overwhelming urge to cry and squeezes her sister’s hand as more tears well up. She allows her sister to hear her thoughts, fearing she’ll sob if she so much as opens her mouth. _You’re all I have left. I should have listened to you about Jacob. Maybe that would have protected you_.

“But you _did_ protect me,” Queenie presses, her other hand also reaching out to hold Tina’s.  “I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

Queenie’s words have her older sister crumbling before her; Tina lets herself sob silently, eyes screwing shut as she bows and rests her head on the bed by their joined hands. 

“The law is your _job_ , Teen,” the younger sister continues, growing more emotional herself from seeing her sister, usually so strong, in such a state. She strokes Tina’s dark hair. “And your job is _everything_ to you.”

_You are everything to me_ , Tina thinks, not lifting her head from the bed as she continues to cry.

“I know,” the blonde admits after a few moments, voice trembling as her own tears begin to fall. “You’ve always done your best to take care of us – of me. Ever since Ma and Pa died, you’ve always thought of me and not you. But you oughtta think of _you,_ too. Besides,” her tone becomes lighter as a knowing smile creeps up her face. “I’m not _all_ you have left.”

Tina suddenly springs back up, lifting her head if only to shake it and scoff at her sister’s capacity to tease her even at a time like this. It’s all in jest though, as she’s powerless to fight off the smile that comes to her lips and the surge of warmth that rushes to her face. Queenie giggles through her tears, happy to see her sister smiling again.

Warm brown eyes look into clear blue ones as the two sisters smile at each other, relieved to be in each other’s kindness and company for the first time in months.

The relative silence (now in the air and in both their minds) is comfortable when Tina thinks to her sister, _Jacob is a wonderful man_.

Queenie squeezes her hand in thanks. “So is Newt,” she counters playfully, chuckling when Tina blushes.

Then Tina thinks her next thought with utmost certainty. _But my sister will always come before any man_.

Queenie’s smile widens, blue eyes sparkling with mirth and a hint of mischief as she whispers, “Ditto.”

Tina chuckles, standing up to wrap her baby sister into a warm hug that is instantly reciprocated. Sighing contentedly, she drops a kiss to Queenie’s hair, and speaks her next thoughts. “I love you.”

Queenie’s arms squeeze tighter around her waist. “I love you.”

“Breakfast is rea–oh.”

The two women, not parting from each other’s embrace, turn their heads to the direction of the kitchen. Jacob has stopped in his tracks and looks embarrassed to have interrupted the sisters’ moment. Behind him stands Newt, wand held upward, looking equally dumbstruck. The slew of floating plates, glasses and utensils he had been guiding into the room now halt suspended in mid-air, surrounding the two boys who were unsure whether to proceed.

“Y’know what? It can wait,” Jacob says, smiling awkwardly, holding up both hands in apology and looking ready to step back into the kitchen to give the two women some space.

He and Newt don’t get to, however, because the sisters finally part from their embrace and laugh, suddenly remembering the tears in their eyes and on their cheeks and wiping them away.

“Come here, you two, and bring the food with you,” Queenie laughs as she and Tina sniffle and wipe at their faces. Tina stands and turns away, embarrassed.

The boys do, relaxing though still looking apologetic. Jacob goes over to Queenie and leans over to peck her on the lips, while Newt sets down the food and dining equipment on a nearby table and walks over to Tina, who was now standing by the window and facing away from them.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, already reaching into his pockets — they always carry so many different things, if he could only remember which one he’d put the handkerchief in, or did he leave it in his coat by the door…? 

Tina takes his hand, halting his movements and thoughts. She squeezes and smiles gratefully all the same, touched by his concern. “I'm fine. Really.” 

He searches her eyes until he decides he believes her, then returns her smile and intertwines their fingers. The sunlight from the window strikes her dark, glistening eyes and the sight of it takes Newt’s breath away. _Fire in deep water_.

Tina, for her part, notes the sunlight kissing his freckled skin, and how the light makes his eyes look hazel, a ring of golden brown flowing from dark pupils then fading into a pale green. The warmth of his hand on hers is the only thing that can make her look away from him; she looks down at entwined hands and smiles, pleasantly surprised by how natural it felt to reach out for his hand and hold on to it.

But she realizes, as she redirects her gaze back to his eyes, that it had always felt natural to be holding his hand – in a tight grip as they ran down a dark corridor in the depths of MACUSA, with a reassuring squeeze as one waited patiently for the other to find the right words, or in a tender clasp as they swayed slowly in each other’s arms on a beautiful spring evening… 

_Ding ding ding!_

The two are startled back to Earth when they hear three loud, bell-like chimes. They turn towards the sound, and sure enough, Queenie is holding a fork to a glass, and she and Jacob wear smirks as they watch them. Tina’s face burns at the implication of Queenie’s action – a wedding tradition for getting the bride and groom to kiss. 

Queenie’s smirk widens upon seeing their faces. “Care to join us?”

Tina and Newt wonder whether there’s a limit for how many times a person can blush in a day.

 

* * *

 

 

The four of them sit and eat their delicious breakfasts in companionable conversation, courtesy of mostly Queenie and Jacob, while Newt and Tina were content to listen and communicate with glances and shy smiles.

Queenie is sitting up in bed with a breakfast tray propped up on her lap, Jacob is seated at one side while Tina and Newt are at the other. The younger Goldstein offers Newt an apology for their meeting at Newt’s London residence, which he is quick to forgive, telling her it was a delight to see her and Jacob again and only wishing it had been under better circumstances. 

Queenie happily congratulates Newt on his success as an author and gasps in delight when she learns (from reading his mind) that a second edition has been greenlit. Tina sends her younger sister a warning glance, wishing she would allow Newt to speak for himself, but it’s half-hearted and easily melts away into a smile when Jacob joins Queenie in congratulating Newt, and Tina glances over at the bashful Magizoologist and feels a swell of pride in her heart. 

Despite his slight embarrassment, Newt’s heart warms as he considers, for what feels like the first time, his ease with his friends. Considering all the things they had been through, it was a wonder to even be alive, so it was absolutely beyond belief that they were all in the same room together, happily chatting away as if they’d never been apart.

After a visit from a healer, the remainder of their morning together is spent baking. Queenie told Newt about Jacob’s creature-shaped confections, and Jacob excitedly trots to the kitchen, knowing he and Newt had bought enough ingredients to make a batch. But Queenie wanted to help, so Newt and Tina summoned all the ingredients and necessary kitchen tools to the bedroom area and assisted Jacob to speed up the cooking with magic.

Queenie points her wand at an oddly shaped clump of dough sitting on the flour-covered tray on her lap. It consists of a knob stretching out to an upward spike on one side, and supported by four stout little legs. With a wave of her wand, the dough cooks to a golden-brown and expands to a general but recognizable shape of an erumpent, and the smell of freshly baked bread fills their senses. She hands it to Newt, who examines it with admiration.

“That’s the one that chased me down Central Park,” Jacob muses, the memory dancing in his eyes. 

“I remember,” Tina chimes in, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Although, the uh... _dance_ that Newt did before it chased you was even more memorable.”

Jacob and Queenie (seeing the memory played out in the other three’s thoughts) laugh as Newt turns beetroot, smiling bashfully himself.

Their laughter fades just as they hear a knock on the door. Tina is on her feet to answer it and returns seconds later. “Newt, it’s your brother.”

Their eyes follow Newt as he makes his way to the door, until he comes back into the room looking somewhat disappointed. “I’ve to, er...our parents are here to visit Leta...I should…” 

“Oh...of course,” Tina says, trying to keep her own disappointment out of her voice. Of course he had to be with his family, and they were only a few floors up; there was no reason to be disappointed by it.

The room is quiet, the other three watching as Newt collects his suitcase and puts on his coat. When he’s done, Jacob stands and gives him the erumpent pastry wrapped in baking paper. 

“Thank you,” he says, accepting the gift with a grateful smile.

“Come see us again, okay, honey? And let us know how Miss Lestrange is doing.” Queenie smiles at him in her sweet way.

“I will,” Newt promises, meeting the younger Goldstein’s gaze briefly before looking to the floor. His head turns slightly to Tina’s direction, and when she doesn’t say anything, he looks up at her almost expectantly.

Suddenly flustered under his gaze, Tina only manages, “I’ll see you out,” and gestures to the door. She can feel Queenie’s eyes on her as she follows Newt outside, and she mentally throws an embarrassed _shut up!_ in her direction.

They both pause outside the door, which Tina closes, knowing her sister will be listening with her Legilimency anyway.

The hallway is clear, Theseus has gone ahead, and they’re both grateful to be given some privacy.

Newt turns to face her, eyes trained on her shoulder. He’s trying to think of something to say, or wondering if he should even say something at all – had the words they’d shared earlier been too much or not enough? Had he made his intentions for her clear? Or had he been too forward?

“I’m sorry about–”

“No, don’t be,” Tina insists kindly. “You should go. Be with your family. I’ll be here with mine,” she finishes with a small smile and a cock of her head towards Queenie’s door. 

Newt meets her gaze, and in his eyes she catches a glimpse of the things he wants to say to her. She hopes he sees the same in her own eyes, and hopes it’s enough for now. 

“Well,” Newt breathes. “I should, erm…” He makes a small gesture to the elevator down the hall, but lingers in his spot. It’s difficult to tear his eyes away from hers.

He reminds himself this isn’t the last time they’ll see each other, that he can just as easily come by later on, that she doesn’t hate him after everything, that she’s willing to let him court her when she’s ready, and that _she_ _wants to see him again_. So he takes one last look to commit her dark, hopeful eyes to memory and turns away.

He’s barely covered three steps when he hears her call his name, and he turns to her automatically, his heart racing when he sees her walk over to him. She pauses to look him in the eyes, before the corners of her lovely lips turn up slightly and she leans closer, her hand coming up to cup his cheek and draw him nearer to her.

Soft, warm lips lightly touch his other cheek and his heart bursts with joy. This wasn’t her first time doing this, but the last time she’d done it, she had been saying goodbye. This time, she’s promising that they’ll see each other again; it makes his stomach flip and he tries to steady himself as he catches her scent – the faded vanilla of her shampoo, the homely warmth and sweetness of hot cocoa.

She pulls back sooner than he would like, lingering for only a second before darting back to the door, leaving him dazed. When she turns back to look at him, he hears Pickett chirrup merrily as he peeks his head out.

Tina beams radiantly, the lightness of her laugh bursting like a light in a cold, dark room as she waves back at the bowtruckle. Newt would later wonder if, after all this time, Pickett can feel his heart pound from sitting inside his breast pocket. 

When she stops waving she shifts her gaze back to Newt, and her smile becomes somewhat shyer, but no less happier, as a faint flush stains her cheeks. She’s tired and sleep deprived, but she’s never looked lovelier to him.

They keep their eyes on each other even as she twists the doorknob and takes her time stepping inside, until she closes the door. 

Newt stares after her for a few moments before catching himself and turning back to walk towards the elevator, only slightly surprised by the newfound spring in his step. By the time he reaches it, his smile hasn’t left his face yet. He knows it won’t leave for a while, and Theseus and Leta (if she’s awake) are likely to give him knowing smirks, and Mother will _definitely_ ask about it.

He remembers Tina’s comment about being with their respective families, and faster than he can stop himself, his mind conjures images of _her_ being a part of his family. Several visions flood his mind all at once: of looking after creatures together, waking up next to her smile, Tina wearing a ring that matches his own…

The elevator chime startles him out of his daydream. He steps inside the compartment then presses the button for the right floor, trying to focus instead on the very present image of Tina’s smile. He’d gotten her to smile again, and that was a most wonderful step in the right direction.

Now, he’d try and amend things with Theseus and Leta, as Tina would with Queenie and Jacob.

It didn’t seem like such a horrid thing now, he thought. And maybe it was only because his cheek still tingled from the touch of Tina’s lips, and his heart was still soaring from the sound of her laugh and the sight of her lovely, sparkling salamander eyes – in his elation, it was hard to tell. A great many things in the future remained fearsome and uncertain, but a few other things had just turned around for the better, and that was enough.

He walks to Leta’s patient room to meet his parents, brother, and future sister-in-law, with a spring in his step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so terribly sorry that I took so long to update this! That said, thank you so much for reading this and Slow Dance, and generally for being so supportive and offering me kind words throughout these installments. It means so much to me and I hope this chapter was worth the wait.
> 
> I hope you didn’t mind the canon divergence too much; even as I began to write this chapter before CoG came out and already had an inkling that Queenie would join Grindelwald, I just couldn’t see myself writing that (or killing off Leta) because I felt it would complicate things to the point of extending this story, which I wanted to only have three chapters. Also, I just really wanted to heal my broken heart by writing a scene with the quartet all together again.
> 
> I’ve said before that I have planned an alternate happy ending for Slow Dance, so if you’re not yet sick of this ficverse then let me know if you would like me to write it up!
> 
> You can find me on Twitter and YouTube @ _mrsmaisels_ , I’ve got some Fantastic Beasts edits on both those pages, as well as on my Tumblr @ _clairelizabeths_.
> 
> Again, thank you all so much, and please let me know your thoughts. Have a lovely day!


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